


Crashlanding

by Enness



Series: Fight or Flight [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Force-Sensitive Finn, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Sequel, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enness/pseuds/Enness
Summary: Nearly a year after joining the Resistance, Finn is better, faster, stronger, and ready for his first official mission with the Shadow Squadron, an elite Resistance commando unit. But the danger of the First Order still looms large, and the darkness in the universe will push Finn to the limits of his abilities, test his relationship with Poe Dameron, and threaten the lives of everyone he cares about.





	Crashlanding

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of a series, so I'd 100% recommend reading part one first, but I've tried to write this to be readable alone. The "Previously On..." summary: Finn is a fully signed-up Resistance member, being trained as part of a commando unit by Admiral Statura, and being mentored in his nascent Force powers by General Leia Organa. Rey and Luke are on a mysterious mission halfway across the galaxy. Poe and Finn are, after some initial speedbumps (see: 'Pathfinding'), in an established relationship. 
> 
> Basically, this has sat half-finished in my drafts for about 18 months, and seeing The Last Jedi has inspired me to get off my ass and finish it properly. It branches off fully after TFA, so I'm treating nothing from TLJ as canon, but will feel entirely free to steal Holdo and Rose for use here, because they are both amazing. There will be further parts, ideally with less than a 23 month gap.

Blaster fire crackled through the air.

Finn sprinted at full speed through a large, dimly-lit warehouse. Piles of crates and containers were laid out haphazardly, piled thirty feet high in places, making the space feel like a maze. He was only faintly aware which direction the exit lay in, and he had no idea how to get there. He was running blindly, sweating under his grey, lightweight battle armour, breath ragged. A blaster rifle hung uselessly on his back, bouncing against him with each step, but he knew that in the time it would take him to turn and aim he’d be hit without a doubt.

He swung a hard left down a narrow pathway – seconds behind him, two figures clad in heavier all-black armour chased after him. One of them was enormous, nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders that strained against the joins in his armour; the other was slighter and shorter, but still formidably built. Each of them was clutching a blaster, firing wildly as they tried to aim without losing speed. The energy bolts that flew over Finn’s shoulders were bright blue, telling him that they were stunners and not live fire, but he was in no greater hurry to be hit by one of these – he jinked and turned until he came to an open area. It was no more than twenty foot by twenty foot, but it offered fewer crates for cover, and would leave him exposed enough for the soldiers on his tail to get a clear shot. ‘Time for Plan B’, he thought, spinning on the spot and unclipping a small metal cylinder from his belt.

It had been 8 months since General Leia Organa, leader of the Resistance, had presented him with the lightsaber, but it still sent a tiny shiver down his spine every time he activated it – the crackle of energy, the low hum of power, the bright yellow beam shooting up from the hilt and lighting up the dark warehouse. In one smooth move he swung the weapon upwards while taking a quick sidestep; one of the shots fired by his pursuers deflected off the blade and towards the ceiling, while the other whizzed harmlessly by his left shoulder. The two soldiers drew up short, raising their rifles but holding their fire as he settled into a defensive stance, slowly edging backwards towards another passage where he could make another break for it. 

“Circle right,” growled the taller one while moving to the left himself, and the two of them slowly split apart, flanking Finn on either side. His eyes flicked warily from one to the other, his breathing slowing as he tried to find a calm centre within. Reaching out with his mind, he became conscious of every miniscule movement each soldier made – the Force rippled through them, flowing through the dry air and into him, and he felt them as clearly as if he were seeing them in broad daylight. The shorter one tightened his finger on the trigger of his blaster, but Finn’s lightsaber was already in position and the bolt bounced harmlessly off it. A second later, reacting to the first shot, the taller soldier fired – clearly, Finn thought, the aim was to overload him from two sides. His movements, though, guided by the Force, were faster than any human reaction – his ‘saber was already swinging to block the second shot, and this one he managed to deflect in the direction it had come from. It glanced off the shoulder of the taller soldier, who roared with anger and stumbled, his battle armour absorbing the worst of the stunning energy.

Giving a guttural shout, the smaller soldier began firing rapidly at Finn, who quickly swung his ‘saber back to block the fire – shuffling slowly backwards, he twirled his lightsaber in front of him, letting his movements flow with the Force, feeling the energy rush through him. As he reached the cover of another makeshift passageway, he spun into it with a last flourish of his ‘saber, quickly deactivating the weapon and clipping it back on his belt. He knew he had bought himself only a few precious seconds – he could already feel the anger of the larger soldier, who had recovered from his wound and was moving carefully towards the passage, rifle at the ready. 

Finn took in the space around him. The containers in this part of the warehouse were piled slightly lower, no more than fifteen feet off the ground, and were closer together. A plan formed quickly in his mind, and for a moment he thought ruefully of Rey, of their brief time training together and of how easily she had been able to use the Force to propel herself up trees and over obstacles. In spite of months of training, he struggled to channel the Force through himself as she did – still, he knew his rudimentary power combined with his years of combat training should be enough to get this done the old-fashioned way.

Propelling himself at the side of one container, he planted his feet against it as he used his momentum to run up the side of it. Pushing both feet against it, he launched himself up and back, towards the other side of the passageway, spinning in mid-air to face the opposite container. His fingers latched onto the top and his feet found purchase in a groove on the side; with a quick tuck, he scrambled onto the top of it, trying to keep his movements soft and as silent as possible. A few seconds later, his pursuers jogged carefully into the passageway.

“Dammit, we lost him!” he heard one of them growl. Smiling to himself, he stayed tucked tightly back away from the edge of the container and out of sight. He heard their footsteps as they walked slowly and warily down the passageway, and waited until they were safely past his position. Moving smoothly, he stood fully and swung his rifle from his back into his hands, powering it up as he stepped carefully to the edge of his vantage point. Looking down, he saw both soldiers focused on the path ahead of them, clearly expecting him to be lurking around the corner at the end. He had to fight back a triumphant laugh as he took careful aim and unleashed a volley of fire at their backs – blue stunning bolts flashed from his rifle and both soldiers crumpled to the ground, barely having a chance to react. Finn slung his rifle back over his shoulder and jumped from the container to the floor below, pushing against the ground with his mind to soften the landing. He jogged quickly back through the open area, then paused, trying to work out which direction he needed to be moving in; suddenly, he felt a movement behind him. 

Spinning around and drawing his lightsaber in one fluid movement, he dropped into a defensive stance as another soldier raced around a corner and skidded to a halt. 

“Got you!” she hissed, her voice distorted by the battle helmet, swinging her rifle up and firing three rapid shots in his direction. Finn blocked them with ease and moved to close the distance between them; as he did so, though, she let go of her rifle, letting it swing back by the shoulder strap. In the same smooth movement, she grabbed a coil of metal from her belt and, with a sharp flick of her wrist, lashed it directly at his face. Instinctively, Finn moved his lightsaber up in time to deflect the blow – instead of severing as he might have expected, the whip coiled around his blade, crackling with energy. The soldier grabbed the handle of her whip with both hands and jerked it to the side; Finn’s lightsaber was wrenched from his grasp and clattered uselessly to the ground several metres away. Before he had even taken this in properly, the soldier had grabbed her rifle again and was pointing it squarely at him. His hands shot up uselessly in surrender – his own rifle, strapped to his back, might as well have been half a planet away for all the good it would do him. 

“You don’t want to do this. Put the blaster down,” he said, his tone low and even, focusing on trying to push the words out towards her.

She gave a derisive snort. “Nice try, Finn. Still have a few Force tricks left to master, huh?” 

Thinking quickly, Finn tried to centre himself. She wasn’t heavily built, but he knew he didn’t have the power to push her away, and even trying to use the Force to push her blaster was risky given that her finger was resting on the trigger, ready to fire in a heartbeat. Behind her, though, he could see a tower of crates, the highest one balanced carefully on the edge of the pile. Too heavy to throw at her, but with a little nudge, it might be of use.

Moving his hand almost imperceptibly, he pushed out with his mind, throwing his full power into the crate. He felt as it slid and toppled, and he tensed up in anticipation as it fell to the ground.

The crash echoed around the warehouse. The female soldier jerked and looked over her shoulder for just a second, instinctively searching for the source of the noise. Finn, however, was ready – darting forward, he grabbed her rifle and pushed the barrel to the side. Her finger squeezed and the rifle fired, but the bolts shot harmlessly to his right. Finn pulled the rifle away from the soldier; the strap around her shoulder pulled taut and she was pulled with it, slipping forwards and off balance. Finn jerked the rifle back towards her, slamming it into her gut – she grunted in pain and hunched over, stumbling backwards. Finn took full advantage, kicking sharply upwards into her lowered head, sending her crashing backwards onto the floor.

“Nice try yourself,” Finn said triumphantly. “But you should’ve AAHHH!”

He was cut off mid-sentence as a stunning bolt crashed into his back; he felt his knees crumple as the floor rushed towards him. He was aware of voices above him, but his limbs felt heavy and useless, and his eyes struggled to focus.

“Awesome shot, Kaydel.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you distracting him, Dur’en.”

“Yeah, by getting kicked in the face.”

“You OK?”

“I’m fine – go check on the other two, I’ll get the wannabe Jedi up.”

He could hear movement and a low hiss of pain – Dur’en was carefully picking herself back up. He felt the thump of her steps through the floor, and a toe poked into his ribs.

“Rise and shine, Finn. The exercise is over. You lost.”

The feeling was slowly coming back into his limbs; he tried to speak, but only managed a guttural groan.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dur’en groused. “I think you chipped one of my teeth.”

She reached under his shoulders and dragged him up into a sitting position. The world around him swam back into focus, and he managed to shakily push himself up from the ground. He looked around and took in Dur’en’s glower, though noted that it was tinged with a hint of amusement. She had taken off her helmet, and her short hair, dyed crimson and usually violently spiky, was matted to her head.

Groaning, he picked himself back up – she reached out a hand to steady him, and he leant against a container while he waited for the world to stop spinning.

“Since when in the hell did you get a shock whip?” he asked, eyeing up the metal coil she had reattached to her belt. 

“Since I knew I’d have to face off against someone with a lightsaber,” she said with a grin. “Cortosis-weave – I got Pava to pick it up when she was flying the General to Goravas last week. Set me back a few credits, but it was totally worth it for the look on your face.” She mimed an exaggerated shocked expression, and Finn swatted at her shoulder while trying to hide a smile. 

A voice boomed over a speaker system, echoing around the warehouse. “Shadow Squadron! Report back for debrief.” Even through the distorted, low-tech tannoy, Admiral Statura’s clipped impatience was clear.

“He’s really not going to change that name, is he?” Dur’en said, almost to herself.

Finn grinned in spite of the pain. “I kinda like it,” he said.

“You don’t think it’s a bit…on the nose?”

Finn shrugged cheerfully. “Gets the point across. And it sounds cool.”

“You are such a dork,” Dur’en said, trying to hold back a laugh and only slightly succeeding. “C’mon, we should get back before Statura gets any angrier. Can you walk?”

Finn nodded, and Dur’en turned to call over her should, “Hey, Kaydel! We good?”

“We’re good,” came the reply as Kaydel emerged from the passageway, followed closely by Leekh and Jokko. All three had removed their helmets too; Kaydel’s tightly braided buns were, as ever, perfectly in place, but the others looked as rough as Finn felt. 

“Nice ambush,” muttered Leekh, grudgingly, pushing a handful of dark, sweat-drenched hair back from his unnaturally blue eyes. Jokko, an enormous Keshiri with violet hair and skin who was still rubbing the back of his head, just glowered at Finn. 

Slowly, the five of them trudged through the warehouse to the main entrance. As the doors slid open, Finn blinked in discomfort, the daylight a harsh adjustment for his eyes. A dry wind whipped across the base; although it had been over a month since the Resistance had fully abandoned their base on D’Qar, Finn hadn’t quite adjusted to the more arid climate of Dantooine. He appreciated the tactical necessity of the move, though – the First Order had been aware of their presence in the Ileenium system, and as the Order slowly recovered from their defeat at Starkiller Base and their activity in the Outer Rim increased, the Resistance had pre-empted any future attack by re-locating to an abandoned Rebel base on Dantooine.

The new base did have some upsides, including a massive, unused warehouse that Admiral Statura had quickly laid claim to as a training ground for his own unit. The six members of Shadow Squadron, as he had dubbed them, had been handpicked from a number of new recruits to be trained as an elite commando squad, to be deployed for espionage, sabotage, strike missions, and basically anything else that arose as far as Finn could tell. Several months earlier, Statura had begun sending them on missions, embedded within more experienced teams, to gain field experience of their own. Finn himself had been used as a bodyguard for various members of the Resistance leadership on diplomatic missions, his Force sensitivity theoretically making him a natural at spotting dangerous situations. In practice, though, his missions had largely run smoothly – while he was happy about this, a part of him itched for a more exciting deployment. He knew, for example, that Jokko had been part of a strike team that attacked a First Order mine somewhere in Wild Space, while Furen Cheei, a quiet, bald Galacian man, was currently on an assignment so secret that even the Squadron hadn’t been given any details about it. 

It helped that all of them had military training in their backgrounds. Dur’en Obee, a talkative and gregarious woman had, in a former life, been part of the Queen of Naboo’s personal guard. Leekh Ashana had, along with Furen, trained as infantry within the army of the New Republic before defecting to the Resistance – the two were old friends, and both relatively quiet, though Furen’s was a watchful, cautious reservation, compared to Leekh’s affable but distractible and dreamy nature. Jokko had been a mercenary, and spoke little of his past, or what had drawn him to the Resistance – Finn wasn’t even sure if “Jokko” was his real name. In spite of this reticence around his own life, he was loud, friendly and fiercely protective of the Squadron. Kaydel Ko was the only long-term Resistance member, having worked in the analytical unit and mission control before transferring into a field position, where she was excelling as a markswoman. As for Finn himself, while he tried not to dwell on his old life as a Stormtrooper, he knew that the years of training he had received under the First Order were a core part of what made him valuable to the unit – his growing Force powers were a useful addition, but not yet honed enough to be more than that.

In a small shed next to the warehouse, Admiral Statura was waiting for them. An array of screens sat above a control panel, allowing him to see everything that was happening inside the training arena. From the look on his face, he wasn’t happy with what he’d been watching.

“One of you beaten and disarmed, two of you shot in the back, and another both disarmed *and* shot in the back,” he said, slowly and deliberately, letting the disappointment hang from each word. Finn’s eyes were fixed on the ground in front of Statura. “Every one of you has now tried this exercise – none of you made it out, but at the same time, no defensive team managed to take down the ‘infiltrator’ without casualties. I hope you’ll take from this, if nothing else, that no one person is bigger than the team, and that you’ll only ever be as effective in battle as you can be as a unit."

“You’ve all shown promise in the field,” he continued. “But that means nothing if you don’t work effectively together. One week from today, you’ll be going into the field as a unit for the first time.”

Finn’s eyes shot up, and he saw the others perk up just as much. The excitement in the room was palpable.

“There won’t be room for mistakes like today in the real world,” said Statura. “If you let the enemy get the drop on you, they will kill you. If you lower your guard in front of them, they will kill you. Are we clear?”

A murmur of assent came from the cadets. 

“Good,” said Statura. “One other thing – Cadet Obee will be leading you in the field.”

Finn glanced over to look at Dur’en, along with all of the other cadets. She looked shocked at the announcement, but quickly straightened her back and nodded firmly, as Jokko gave her a congratulatory thump on the back.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” said Statura. “I expect you to be better than you were today.”

**************************************************************************************

The door opened with a pneumatic hiss.

Finn slouched through it and into his quarters, feeling every muscle in his body creaking in discomfort. His preferred armour was light, and perfectly suited the level of agility and mobility he needed to be able to use his lightsaber in battle with any kind of effectiveness. The downside was that it offered way less protection against even stunner bolts; the skin on his back was already itching from the mild laser burn, and his ribs ached from his heavy fall to the ground. Slowly, painfully, he unfastened the top layer of armour and let it clatter to the ground, followed by the softer base layer. Kicking off his boots, he flexing his feet, relishing the feel of the floor beneath them. One thing he didn’t remove was a brown leather wristband, fastened tightly around his right wrist. He spun it idly as he rolled his shoulders, loosening out the tension in his back. Once, the leather had been part of a ruined, burnt, perfect jacket, until Finn had decided – given the base move and the need to travel light, as well as the increasing frequency of missions that took him away from his new home – that a more portable keepsake was needed.

He walked over to a mirror propped loosely against one of the walls, and craned over his shoulder to see the damage. Sure enough, a blistered patch of skin was visible where he’d been hit – minor, though, and nothing warranting proper medical attention. He paused for a moment, taking in the long, raised scar that ran up the left side of his back, a souvenir of his first Resistance mission and the lightsaber wound that had come entirely too close to ending his new life before it had even started. He shook himself out of his reverie and walked back across the room to a large storage unit, picking his way across the mess on the floor – discarded clothes, tools and assorted pieces of junk were scattered everywhere. He swore softly as he stood on a bolt, and stepped more carefully around the rest. He opened the storage unit and was starting to root through it when he heard the door hiss again behind him. 

He didn’t need to use the Force to sense who was behind him; the musky smell of sweat and oil was enough of an identifier.

“You know,” he said, as if to himself. “I used to have a great room. A simple room. A clean room.”

“Sounds nice,” came the reply from behind him, over the soft hiss of the door closing again.

“It was. It really, really was.”

“What happened to it?” 

Finn could almost hear him smirking. He gave a dramatic sigh.

“I met some idiot who convinced me I should live with him instead. Well, with him and his droid and his unreasonably large collection of clothes and every bit of random space junk he feels like tinkering with or trying to fix up at any given time.”

A pair of hands slid around his waist, a leather wristband just like his own scraping across his stomach, and a pair of lips kissed softly against the back of his neck. He felt rough material that he knew was a flight suit against his back.

“He must’ve been pretty convincing,” came a murmur at the top of his spine, so close he could feel the warm breath gently tickling against him.

“Well, you know. Something about ‘love’ or ‘romance’ or some crap. I forget the details.”

Another kiss pressed against his neck, longer this time. “I’m sure he did better than that. He probably sold you on the bigger room, or the private shower, or the double-sized cot that’s actually built to fit two grown adults.”

Finn gave a low chuckle. “Nah. It was much sappier than that.”

Finn hissed as the mouth bit gently into his shoulder. “Yeah, no. Very sappy, I’m sure,” came the voice. Then another kiss, lower, nearer the blaster burn. “Rough day at the office?”

“Well…I got shot. So that was fun,” Finn offered. He felt a rumble of laughter against his back. 

“You smell like that weird, burnt meat stew the mess keeps trying to feed us.”

Finn grabbed one of the hands around his waist and pulled it up, kissing the back of the hand. “You smell like the back end of an X-Wing,” he murmurered.

“I do,” came the humbled reply. “But see, this is where Past Me really earns his keep.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn said, curious.

Poe leaned in and murmured against Finn’s ear, sending a delicious shiver down his spine.

“Private. Shower.”

************************************************************************************

The scree crunched under Finn’s feet.

His heart pounded as he ran, blood rushing in his ears. His rucksack weighed heavily on his shoulders, threatening to unbalance him as the rocks and debris shifted under his feet. He tried to focus on keeping his steps light, propelling himself through each step quickly enough to keep his momentum – a task that was getting harder the higher he climbed. 

A few metres to his left, Dur’en raced up a less treacherous path. Finn could hear her footfall and her ragged breath, but tried to focus all of his attention on the ground in front of him. They had left the base almost half an hour earlier, just before sunrise, and every muscle in his body was burning as they neared the top of the hill. As they reached the final crest, he summoned one final burst of energy and launched himself forwards over a final pile of loose rocks onto a clear plateau, landing into a perfect somersault before straightening up, gulping in air. Moments later, Dur’en reached him, doubled over and panting.

“Show off,” she gasped, though breathless laughter bubbled underneath her words. She dropped her own rucksack onto the ground and rooted through it, pulling out a flask of water that she gulped down gratefully. Finn followed suit, and for a minute they stood in silence, waiting for their breathing to slow, watching the sun slowly rise over the base. Even from a few kilometres away, Finn could see signs of life from the base – miniscule figures moving across the main quad, and a light emanating from the hangar bay.

“So, I'm kinda freaking out,” said Dur'en, breaking the silence.

“Because of what Statura said?”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm honoured and all, but I just don't know why he picked me.” She turned towards Finn. “You're the best fighter out of all of us, and Ko's the ranking officer.”

“But everyone actually likes and listens to you,” said Finn.

She snorted in spite of herself. “What, and they don't like you?”

Finn grinned. “They like me just fine. But they don't trust me the way they do with you. And we all like Kaydel, but she's part-robot. Face it – you're the right person to lead us.”

She grimaced. “I never used to feel like this. Back on Naboo, it was...I mean, I was the best in my training class, I was great at my job, I could have been head of the royal security detail within a decade. When I joined up with the Resistance, it suddenly all got so much more *real*. This isn't just protecting one person – the whole galaxy is at stake.” Her voice caught as she continued. “What – what if I screw up? Statura's right; there's no safety net out there, no do-overs if I make the wrong call.”

Finn contemplated this for a moment. “How about this – if you get us all killed, you owe us a drink.”

“C'mon, Finn. This is serious.”

“And I’m serious,” he said, grabbing her shoulder and looking her dead in the eye. “You’re the smartest of all of us – who else would’ve thought of that electrowhip? You’ve aced every tactical assessment Statura’s thrown at us. You're going to be amazing. We all believe in you, and everyone – even Ko – thinks you're the right person for this.”

She allowed herself a small smile. “Thanks, Finn. You're all completely wrong, but thanks.” She grabbed her rucksack, dropped her flask into it and slung it over her back. “Race you back to the base?”

Finn grinned. “Loser buys the first round tonight.”

******************************************************************************

Poe could hear the hum of conversation from outside the General's briefing room, but the words were indistinct. He mentally smacked himself for his lateness as he entered a code into the door's keypad. It slid open with a soft hiss.

“Sorry,” he muttered, quickly moving to his seat. Around the table, the highest ranking officers of the Resistance were gathered – the conversation stopped briefly as he joined them. He took in the image being cast from the holoprojector in the middle of the table, which seemed to be the layout of an unfamiliar base.

“Commander Dameron,” said the General, with a curt nod. “Admiral Statura was just giving us an update on one of his assets in the field.”

Statura shot Poe a look of mild displeasure. “As I was saying, Cadet Cheei hasn't checked in for four days. We have no indication of whether he's been discovered, or whether he just hasn't been able to get clear to send a communication.”

“What's your instinct telling you?” asked General Organa.

“To wait,” said Statura. “This is a hazard of deep cover. Cheei is smart, and cautious. If we launch a rescue attempt without a clear understanding of the situation, we could be putting him in even more danger.”

“When was he scheduled to be extracted?” asked Admiral Ackbar.

“Five days from now. If we don't hear from him before then, I believe we should plan a full-scale rescue.”

Something clicked on Poe's head. “Five days – that's Shadow Squadron's planned mission, then? Running his extraction?”

“Among other mission parameters, yes,” said Statura, seeming annoyed. “Commander, I assume I don't need to remind you that everything I'm telling you is classified at the highest levels. I don't want the rest of his squadron knowing about this yet.”

Poe bristled at the implication, but nodded his assent. He'd gotten the full lecture when his relationship with Finn had become public knowledge – Finn was still a cadet, and not privy to command-level decisions and information. Poe didn't particularly like having to keep information from his boyfriend, but he wasn't stupid enough to jeopardise both of their positions by blabbing military secrets, even when they concerned Finn's own team.

General Organa had been silently considering Statura's recommendation, and seeming to come to a decision, she gave a small nod. “Fair enough, Admiral. If we haven't heard from Cheei three days from now, re-spec the mission to a full rescue, and keep me informed.”

Poe felt unease in the bottom of his gut. He knew from experience that regular communications weren't always an option out in the field, but four days of radio silence felt wrong, even if he could see the logic in what Statura was saying.

Admiral Ackbar cut in. “What news from the Republic? Is the Senate any closer to declaring war?”

General Organa's jaw clenched. “Not as far as any of my sources can tell. Between the First Order's lack of activity and the fact that we destroyed Starkiller Base, there's a sizable contingent within the Senate who don't see the First Order as an immediate threat.”

“So they're gonna wait until the next time the Order wipes out a star system?” asked Poe in disgust.

“Or until we can give them undeniable evidence that the First Order is planning another strike,” said Organa. “Unfortunately, that's proving difficult. Their operations are so scattered that we can't monitor them effectively. They could be building another superweapon right now, and I'm not sure we'd know it. And our spy network just keeps coming back with the same message, again and again.”

Poe's stomach turned again. The intel had come through a month earlier – an order directly from Snoke, that the First Order was pursuing above all other objectives: 'Find the one who defeated Kylo Ren'. They had warned Rey and Luke immediately, allowing them to hide the Millenium Falcon and move to a less conspicuous transport. It wasn't a total surprise that Snoke was looking to add another young, talented Jedi-in-training to his army, but Poe couldn't begin to imagine how disconcerting it must have been for Rey to know that she was being personally targeted by one of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy, and his entire army.

Fortunately, Luke knew a few things about going underground – even the leaders of the Resistance weren't at all sure of their current whereabouts, or what exactly Luke was searching for. Even the infrequent holocalls they had been making to the Resistance - Luke to Leia, Rey to Finn - had ended. Poe knew that Rey was probably safer travelling incognito with the last Jedi Master than she was staying in one place, even if that place was a heavily armed Resistance base. On the other hand, he knew that he'd feel a lot better if she were on Dantooine, where he could see for himself that she was alright. And he knew that if Finn ever figured out that the First Order were dedicating their considerable resources to tracking her down, he'd have stolen the first available ship and gone to try and find her himself. 

Still, it gave him some comfort that they had heard no hint from any of their spies that the First Order were any nearer than before to catching Rey. For now, the best thing they could do to help her was to give the Senate enough information on the First Order's plans to get them into the fight.

************************************************************************************

Finn sat with his eyes closed, one hand in front of him, palm up, with a simple gold ring sitting on it.

He ran a thumb over the ring, trying to feel for any imperfections or marks, any sign of the character of the ring. There were a number of indents on the inside of the band that felt like they might be an inscription, but apart from that it just felt like a ring, much like any other. He knew in theory what he was meant to be doing – feeling the Force within the ring, and gleaning from that where the ring had been and what had happened to it, but all he felt was cold metal, and a growing sense of uselessness.

“I think I feel...sadness? Maybe?” he said, hazarding a loose guess.

“I was hoping for a little more detail than that,” said General Organa, but there was a note of amusement in her voice.

Finn sighed. “I'm sorry. I kinda suck at this.”

“Psychometry is an extremely difficult skill to master,” said Organa. “And I sense you may be a little frustrated that we're spending so much time on it.”

Finn hesitated, but nodded. “Honestly? I'd really prefer to be learning how to lift an X-Wing, or jump 20 feet without breaking a sweat. But I know you're doing this for a reason.”

“I am,” agreed Organa, “but that doesn't mean I don't understand how you're feeling.”

In truth, most of Finn's frustration was directed towards himself. His Force training seemed to have hit a wall in terms of direct combat abilities – try as he might, he couldn't push his body to the same kind of physical feats that seemed to come so easily to Rey, or hurl objects around with the casual strength he'd seen Kylo Ren display. Organa had warned him when they started training that there would be limits to his abilities, but it still felt jarring now that he seemed to be pushing up against them.

The General slowly lowered herself into a seated position in front of Finn.

“I know this is hard, but believe me, we will return to the more active uses of the Force. Your sensitivity, though, is your greatest asset – you're naturally adept at feeling and reading the Force in a way that many others aren't, and I'd prefer to see you develop that for now. Your ability to channel that sensitivity into more aggressive powers will grow in time.”

“I know,” said Finn, trying not to let his emotions creep into his voice. 

Organa considered him silently for a moment. “How about a middle ground? Mastering telepathy is the first step towards being able to control the minds of others. Pushing thoughts onto people isn't a power I particularly like, but it has its uses.”

“Definitely! I mean...yes, ma'am, if you think I'm ready,” he said, trying to contain his excitement.

She smiled indulgently. “Close your eyes. We'll start slow. I'm going to think of a colour – I want you to tell me what it is. Instead of finding your own centre, try to focus on mine. Listen to my breathing – feel my heartbeat. Feel what I feel.”

Finn felt about five years old, but he went along with it, closing his eyes and reaching out. The world faded around him, and slowly, he felt a series of images flow through his mind – a brilliant sky, a calm lake, a simple, elegant dress in pale cerulean.

“Blue,” he said, hearing his own voice like it was coming from far away. He opened his eyes and the room snapped back into focus. Organa nodded approvingly.

“The real challenge,” she said, “is to direct your thoughts outwards. Try it again, but this time, try to focus on a single thought of your own – whatever colour comes to mind.”

Finn closed his eyes again and felt the world drift away. Almost unbidden, an image popped into his mind – a pilot's jumpsuit, covered in oil and dirt, so real he could almost reach out and touch it.

“Orange,” said Organa, snapping him back to the room again. She raised a single eyebrow, and looked like she was barely holding back a smirk. “Imagine my surprise.”

Finn felt a slight flush of embarrassment, but one that was quickly outweighed by a rush of triumph.

“It actually worked! That's unreal!”

“In a small room, with no distractions, sending a simple image to another Force user sitting two feet away,” said Organa, a note of caution in her voice. “There are a few more steps to go yet.”

“Yes, Ma'am. But...it *did* work,” he said, trying to suppress a smile and failing.

Organa let out a soft chuckle. “Let's try again, and let's see if you can manage something a little more complex this time.”

********************************************************************************************************

The mess buzzed with activity. One of the advantages of relocating to a larger based had been a much larger common area, which included a bar – poorly stocked and heavily controlled, but still a marked improvement over the homebrewed alcohol that had pervaded the D'Qar base. Finn understood from Poe that the Resistance leadership had finally decided that the token nod to formality in barring alcohol consumption was less important than the increasing risk of a poorly-made batch of bathtub 'Tevraki whiskey' blinding half the base.

Finn walked from the bar, a spiced ale in hand, to the table where the rest of his squad had already gathered.

“Just the one, OK?” said Dur'en with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. The mood was tense – in just 12 hours, they'd be gathered for their first mission briefing as a team, and by the following evening they'd be out in the field. Unsurprisingly, no one felt much like talking, but Finn had decided that it was better to be sitting in near-silence with his team than alone in his quarters, and it seemed like everyone else felt the same, given that no one was rushing to leave in spite of the sparse conversation and funereal mood.

It was almost a relief when Jessika strolled over and plonked herself down in the seat next to Finn, breaking up the tension.

“Hey Crash,” she said, grinning at Finn – she had been the one to give him his 'pilot name', based on his less-than-stellar flying skills, and she used it so much that he almost wondered if she had forgotten his actual name (or at least, his fake-name-of-choice). “Crashettes,” she added, nodding to the rest of the squad, getting half-hearted acknowledgement in return.

“Fun crowd,” she said, regarding them skeptically. “Pre-mission nerves?” she added with a grin.

“Pretty much,” said Finn, noting a few death glares being directed towards Pava, which she seemed either oblivious or indifferent towards.

“Well, if it helps, I could pinky-promise not to crash the ship and kill us all on the way there?”

The whole table perked up.

“You're flying us?” said Finn, at the same time that Jokko asked “Where's 'there'?”

Jess smirked, enjoying the slight rumble she'd created. “No idea,” she said to Jokko. “All I know is that I drew taxi duty. And that Poe and Awneya are our fighter support,” she said, turning her attention to Finn and adding with a sardonic tone, “in case you were wondering why he isn't shuttling you personally.”

“Only the two of them?” asked Dur'en, her eyebrows narrowed as she worked through it. “So we're getting into First Order territory, if they're keeping the support that light – it must be some kind of infilitration. Did they tell you anything more?”

Jessika shook her head. “Just the basics. We'll find out the rest in the morning – me, Poe and Awneya will be in the morning briefing with you. They really didn't tell any of you guys anything more?”

“Only Kaydel,” said Jokko, an edge to his voice. “And *she* isn't saying a word.”

“I just helped with some of the planning – making good use of my time in analytics and mission control,” Kaydel explained officiously to Pava, before turning to Jokko and adding in a harsher tone, “and I was *ordered* not to talk to anyone about the details. Excuse me for actually following the chain of command. I mean, Finn doesn't tell us anything about his Jedi training, or his secret calls with Rey and Luke.”

"Secret *personal* calls!" snapped Finn, a little more harshly than was necessary. He hadn't told anyone but Poe that he hadn't heard from Rey in a month; he was holding himself back from freaking out, given who she was with and how scattered their communications had always been, but it made him tense to think about it.

“Enough,” said Dur'en. “Jokko, stop needling her. Kaydel, destress. Finn, breathe. We're all a little tightly wound, OK? But this time tomorrow all of our lives will be in each other's hands, so let's try not to kill each other before then, yeah?”

“Fine,” muttered Jokko.

“OK by me,” said Kaydel evenly. She shook her head slightly, then downed her drink. “I think I'm going to go and get some sleep.”

As she walked away, Leekh gave a large yawn. “I think I'm going to head off too. Big day tomorrow.”

Watching Leekh's speedy walk across the mess, wheels began to turn in Finn's head.

“Hey...you don't think those two-”

Dur'en's laughter cut him off. “Wow. Seriously, Finn?”

“They've been hooking up for about two months,” said Jokko. “I think they think it's still a secret, and it's more fun to watch them be 'subtle' than to burst that bubble.”

Finn gaped. “How come no one told me?!”

“We assumed you knew!” said Dur'en, matching his indignance. She shook her head, looking almost awed. “You know, for someone who's meant to have some deep connection to the Force or whatever, you can be *really* oblivious.”

“Even the pilots know about it,” Jess chipped in helpfully. “We were talking about it earlier. Which reminds me – Poe was looking for you.”

“He was? When?”

She shrugged. “Maybe 20 minutes ago? I think he was heading for your quarters.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” said Finn, with a touch of sarcasm. He looked back across the mess, where Leekh had now disappeared into the crowd. His eyes flicked to Dur'en's – seeing the slight nod of her head, he downed the last of his drink and stood up.

“See you all tomorrow,” he said, adding in a soft whisper to Jessika, “and play nice.”

“Spoilsport,” she murmured, before turning her attention back to the table and asking loudly “So, who's buying the shots?”

Finn made his way quickly back to his quarters, reaching the door of his room just as it opened from the inside. On the other side, Poe started slightly as the door slid back. He had changed out of his flight suit and his shower-damp hair drooped down over his forehead.

“Hey! Good timing – I was just coming to look for you.” He stepped back into their quarters, and Finn followed, the door sliding shut behind him.

“I heard,” Finn said. “Figured I'd come find you first.”

“How're you doing?” asked Poe, reaching out to gently stroke Finn's arm. “Nervous?”

“Yeah, that's kinda the understatement of the century. But also really energetic, you know? Like I could run a dozen laps of the base and not even begin to feel tired.”

Poe nodded sympathetically. “That's the adrenalin. I always used to sleep badly before a big mission – you've just gotta mmf-” He was cut short by Finn grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in for a kiss, frantic at first, then slowing to a more comfortable pace, driving Poe backwards into their quarters. Finn flailed an arm out and, through some miracle, managed to hit the right button on the control panel to close their door again. Poe looked almost dazed as they broke apart.

“Running laps seemed like a stupid way to spend tonight,” said Finn, by way of explanation.

Poe grinned, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Can't argue with your logic – it's always worked for me for pre-mission jitters.”

Finn started to lean back in, then paused. “'Always'?” he teased.

Poe considered this. “Let's park that particular chat for sometime that isn't now,” he suggested, reaching past Finn and turning off the lights.


End file.
